Sorry for being on such a long hiatus! Writer's block is killing me, it's a struggle to find a pathway to what I know I want to write. I will be updating more often though, I make it my personal mission! See you in a week or so c: As always, reviews are welcome ;D
"Entry for three?" I ask, handing over my I.D. The security gorilla at the door grunts unintelligibly, nodding us in. My senses are suddenly engulfed by a vibrant array of colours, sounds and scents, and I can almost taste the desperation in the room. A herd of pubescent teenagers are gathered around the stage like flies around a fresh carcass, and I cringe as a few more dart past us, leaving the scent of cheap cologne wafting around in the stale air.
"Would it kill them to open a window in here or something?" Sam asks, and the brothers look extremely uncomfortable in their usual ten thousand layers, but our resident angel doesn't seem bothered by the heat, despite him having as many- well, probably more- layers than them.
"Cas, want to do a sweep of the place?" Dean asks. I expect Cas to get up and angel himself around to have a look, but instead he just sits there, eyes blank and unmoving.
After a minute of awkwardly standing around in silence, the terrible techno music around us blaring, Castiel finally speaks. "There does not appear to be anything supernatural in or around this establishment."
"So then why are we here?" Dean shouts over the noise.
"Bobby told us to check it out, and it was connected- two of the murderers are connected to this place." I point out.
"Well there's nothing here, so should we-"
"Cas, could you check the surrounding buildings too?" I cut Dean off and turn to Castiel. He looks mildly annoyed. The angel gives a slight nod, almost questioning, before going blank again.
He comes back to us faster this time, only taking about twenty seconds.
"I still cannot find any evidence of supernatural activity."
"Well that was a complete waste of time, why didn't we ask Cas to check from the motel?" Dean complains loudly, but no-one's listening.
"Okay, we can head off then?" Sam asks.
"I don't see why not. Any objections?" The group stays silent, so we trudge back to the car, through rain that wasn't there five minutes ago.
"I told you to park closer, Dean!" Sam groans as we half-run down a side street to get to the impala. I'm slowly becoming more and more irritated by a few pieces of gravel that have found refuge in my shoes. The only one who doesn't seem in the least flustered by the rain is Castiel. In fact, he seems to be getting sick of our complaints, and ends up zapping us the rest of the way.
I open the left rear door and step inside, shaking my hair around and feeling droplets of moisture cascading down the back of my neck. Shivers run down to my bones and Sam jumps in the other side, pulling me against him, sharing warmth. His jacket is slid over to me, and I pull the slightly damp material towards me gratefully, wrapping it around my shoulders, feeling Sam's arms shuffle back into place around me.
I now have two layers of protection, but it seems like i'm not getting any warmer. My arms and legs still prickle with the familiar feeling of goose bumps, my shivers unrelenting. The car still isn't moving, though I see Dean's hand poised to turn the key. My eyes flicker to Sam. His hair flutters slightly under my heavy breath, but he doesn't move. His limbs are still soft, fleshy- but unmoving around me. I wriggle out from his grasp and sit up, looking around.
"Dean? Cas?" My eyes dart around, heart rate increasing.
"J... Jane?" A voice stutters out in a surprised tone, sounding muffled.
Scanning the car, I see that Sam, Dean and Cas have not moved. So who's talking?
Fumbling slightly, my fingers click open the door and I step out into the rain. It's stopped falling, but it's also stopped moving altogether. As I step into the deluge, raindrops move around me, accommodating me and moving around me each step.
'Cameron?'
The familiar pale face smiles timidly at me, showing his missing right canine from his accident. Of course this face is familiar, it's been staring out at me from my wallet for the last few years. Haunting my memories, plaguing my thoughts. Am I grateful to see it again? Give me a while to decide.
"What are you?" My voice turns to ice in my throat and I shiver, coughing. I reach for my knife, but I am distracted by what feels like nails in my oesophagus. I wrap a cold hand around my neck, feeling the skin distort grotesquely- rippling and shifting, twisting, writhing.
"-Shook me all night long."
I wake with a start, shivers running up my spine, a cool sweat starting to bead on my forehead.
"Is she awake?" A gravelly tone disrupts my assessment of my surroundings, but it doesn't really matter, everything here is fuzzy. All black and warm and fuzzy.
"Jane, can you hear me?" I hear a smoother voice question.
"You've got a nice voice, y'know is' kinda flowy and bumpy at the same time kinda, you get me? Yeah... Jus' kinda... Yeeeah." My voice crackles across the warm, circulated air.
"Woah, woah, woah, is she stoned?" The voice of gravel inquires accusingly.
I reach down to my foot, picking a piece of gravel out from it and throw it at Dean. Itg lances off his cheek and I giggle sedately. "No, you're stoned." I go to giggle again, but the nails in my throat have returned.
I taste the metallic tang of blood and I cough, spitting red and something else out of my mouth. I hear the tinkle of something landing on the asphalt and turn over to see shards of glass glinting grotesquely at me, muted by a shiny red layer of blood.
"Hex bags! Check for hex bags!" Sam's voice cuts through my clouded mind as the brothers frantically search the car for small bags of hoodoo magic. My throat is raw and my blood is thundering through my ears so loudly that it feels like there is a never ending drumbeat rolling through my head.
A cry wafts its way into my hazy consciousness and I see the telltale blue flames. My throat is clear again, though ragged, and I spit out the remaining blood. Someone hands me a bottle, and I sniff it to make sure it's water. My mouth stings as I rinse out the blood, and I can still feel the ghost of sharp edges slicing me from the inside out.
"Let's get you in the car, I don't feel like you getting hypothermia will help the situation. That was definitely more than enough almost-death for one day." Sam jokes half-heartedly, pulling my arm over his shoulders to help me into the leather interior of the Impala.
"Yeah. More than enough." I grip him tightly as we slide across the warm seat. My head lolls against his shoulder and he pulls me closer, radiating warmth and comfort. I am asleep in seconds.